Winter
by Gigabomb
Summary: The third in a series of viewpoints in Konoha covering the first year Naruto is gone training with Jiraiya. Morino Ibiki in a teahouse.


Author's Note: For Saiko Kaiya. Sorry this took so long.

Winter was the silent season. Konoha was far enough from the sea that the end of autumn signified the coming of the snow, and with it came quiet. Ibiki appreciated this. It was true that the cold made old scars twinge now and again, but so did training, and eating, and even something so simple as pouring a cup of tea. The cold could be driven away, but silence was difficult to find.

Everything about winter was quiet. Not only did the cold keep people indoors, snow muffled sound and even fell quietly, something rain continually failed to do. Winter was an ending, but it was also a beginning, as it destroyed the old and brought in the new, washing away ancient hurts and wrongs. One year had passed since the death of the Third Hokage, and a new Fire Shadow had arisen from the ashes. Sandaime was nothing more than a memory, and a fading one at that. Things passed, as did opportunities, but dwelling on the might-haves and could-have-beens was deadly, for Ibiki most of all. Too much had happened that shouldn't have ever occurred, too much to think about, too much to ever make right.

Thinking about the present was easier. Living in the moment required barely any effort at all, and the last thing Ibiki wanted think about when warm in a teahouse with his favorite type of tea clasped between his hands was the futility of tomorrow or the bitterness of yesterday. Today was peaceful, while the past wasn't and the future wasn't likely to be. Ibiki had been through far too much to not appreciate what he had now, as opposed to what he could have had or might have someday. He was only twenty-six years old, but chronological age was never a good measure for experience or maturity, especially so in a village centered around the art of war, of betrayal, of assassinations in the dark. He might as well have been one thousand.

It would have been easier, to find the silence, the peace, if everyone wasn't so convinced that quiet was the worst thing for him. For them, silence meant time to think, which meant time to reflect, which meant he would invariably end up in a spiral of despair and guilt and self-hate, leading to one of his subordinates finding his body sprawled on the bathroom floor with his wrists slit by a shaving razor, so they tried to keep the quiet away from him. Ibiki would have liked to be able to say that he appreciated their efforts, but he didn't. If suicide had been on his list of priorities, a twenty-four hour watch would be required, and even that probably wouldn't work. One of the first things you learned working in espionage was the fine art of where to bite through your tongue to hit a major artery. If you didn't choke on the blood, you would bleed to death. Simple, though hardly painless. It was just one of those things. For a shinobi, no weapon was required to kill. Or to die.

It was true enough that he had more time to think and reflect while alone, but not all thoughts were morbid, and not all memories were bad ones. Thoughts of his little brother didn't necessarily lead to memories of his betrayal and cowardice, thought Ibiki had to admit to himself that he had slept easier with the knowledge that Idate had not died in a hole somewhere, had in fact made a life for himself outside the shinobi profession. There was some comfort in knowing that he now had no one to worry about. Idate would never be a part of his life again, but he had always been a strange attachment anyway, technically little brother, adopted son, but there was a ten year age gap, making both objectives rather impossible. It was unreasonable to expect a sixteen year old to look after his brother, but their parents were dead and even if no one would have blamed him per se, it was a far different thing to be abandoned as to truly being an orphan, and Ibiki had felt he owed his brother that much at least. And now he owed no one anything.

Tea had always been Ibiki's drink of choice. It was soothing, and clear, and drove the cold away. Teahouses were always warm and friendly, but didn't impose on your privacy the way bars always seemed to. He was aware that this preference had cemented his reputation as a loner, as alcohol was social and tea was not. What this said of people in general wasn't reassuring. If humanity couldn't stand to be around each other unless they were all too drunk to see straight, they all should have stayed home and saved themselves the trouble.

The snow fell quietly outside. Ibiki sipped his tea and was quietly thankful that a jounin instructor had thrown a karaoke party across town and invited almost everyone, Ibiki's subordinates included. No one was likely to bother him tonight.

"Ibiki! Ibiki, where the hell. . . there you are!"

Anko had never struck him as a person who enjoyed tea. How she had even known a teahouse was in the area was completely unfathomable. More so was why she was looking for him to begin with, but Ibiki wasn't in the mood to fathom mysteries tonight. He wasn't in the mood for anything, really, and that included human interaction, though most of the time Anko acted more like some vicious puppy/viper hybrid than the jounin she was. They weren't friends, but they had become familiar with one another in the chuunin exams the year before. Which still didn't explain her presence.

"God, Ibiki, what do you see in a boring place like this?"

((You just answered your own question.)) But he replied anyway. "I enjoy the tea. And you?"

She made herself comfortable at his table, melting snow dripping off her cloaked form and soaking the carpet. "I was looking for you. A couple of your minions-"

"Subordinates."

"Whatever. A couple of your minions told me you hung around here a lot, and so here I am."

"Why?"

"Someone mentioned loneliness, despair, and a razor. If you were doing something kinky I wanted to join in. Most of the jounin around here are prudes and apparently fraternizing with kids is illegal or something." Anko grinned at him. She wasn't stupid, ridiculous façade of carelessness notwithstanding. She knew exactly what the unnamed subordinate (or minion, minion worked, subordinate suggested possible promotions and all Ibiki was seeing in their futures was months of the graveyard shift) had meant. She also had enough demons in her past that if it wasn't for the previously mentioned façade her coworkers would probably urge her to therapy, and still did on occasion anyway. Like the psychiatrists of Konoha didn't have enough to deal with. Helping someone get rid of a blood fetish wasn't very high on their list of priorities.

"I thought you would be off at that karaoke party Gai was throwing."

"I have a terrible singing voice. And the bar he chose has the worst vodka ever."

A waitress came by and asked for her order. Anko grinned at the girl and requested some chai tea, and would they mind putting in just a little rum, please? The waitress looked vaguely scandalized, but managed a weak smile before she crept off. Ibiki covered his face with his hands.

"You don't order alcohol in a teahouse, Anko."

"Like I've ever been in one before."

So he had been right to begin with.

"You know, Ibiki, if this is your idea of kink, I really need to rent you some videos."

"Can't you go bother someone else?"

"What, and go back outside? Are you nuts?"

For the first time, Ibiki questioned whether the snow was such a good thing.

Anko's tea came, and as they had managed to find some rum somewhere, Ibiki sighed and resigned himself to a night of company instead of one of quiet solitude. He would be cordial tonight, of course. Vast personality differences aside, he rather liked Anko and admired her ability to stay upbeat through personal problems. But tomorrow, his minions were going to regret ever revealing the location of his private retreat. On occasion, the future was more pleasant to contemplate than the present. The ability to live for the moment was necessary, but Ibiki had also always been rather good at planning revenge.

"And shit, Kakashi is the funniest drunk ever. You should see how he acts after a couple of beers, it's hilarious-"

Thumbscrews. Thumbscrews were definitely going to get involved.

"Iruka sure loosens up after a few. That guy is such a tight ass normally."

They were going to pay for ruining his evening.

"But it's kind of nice to get away from the crowds, ya know? Makes me angsty to be around so many people, even if they entertaining."

"I know what you mean."

Anko was loud, irritating, and sometimes completely offensive, but he supposed it could have been worse.

"Hey, waiter! More rum over here!"

Ibiki failed to notice that his tea had cooled. There were other things to occupy his attention.


End file.
